


Step One

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Homeward Bound [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Dom Stiles, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Porn, Porn With Plot, Possessive Stiles, Rough Sex, Sciles, Scott isn't in a good headspace, Slavery, Sub Scott, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's first night of independence goes sideways when they find out Peter Hale was released from prison. For every step forward, it's two steps back. Possessive Stiles, submissive Scott, rough sex, and discovering new kinks for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step One

The thing about ‘tomorrow’ was that they had an endless supply. For every day they claimed, Stiles wanted to fight harder, to push further. Some of their progress was loud, spread out for the world to see with a pride that they both wallowed in. Together they were unstoppable and they fucking well knew it. Scott accepted therapy sessions more frequently. He spoke more with other people - other weres. He tried group meetings. He let people approach his blindside. Dr. Tate praised him; they started identifying triggering words, digging into history that still left Scott too quiet, too still. The thoughts still came. They’d probably never leave, but he hadn’t been physically violent in a long time, and he learned where to take victories. Stiles slowly but surely circumvented hospital rules once more, staying longer and spending nights, even if it meant driving back at ass o’clock in the morning with wrinkled work clothes and a side still warm where Scott had been. 

Some of their progress was more subtle. Scott ate lunch in the cafeteria. They let Stiles ‘smuggle’ in a laptop. Scott smiled more. Stiles hoarded every memory like the precious gems that they were.

They earned this.  _Scott_  earned this - sitting in the passenger’s seat of Stiles’ jeep, which clunked and shook and hummed at all the wrong points, but Allison’s girlfriend rebuilt cars when she was annoyed, and Roscoe owed his good health to her skilled hands. Beacon Hills swam past them, and it wasn’t the first time Scott had been out on the town. It was the first time, though, that he’d be out without any hospital staff trailing after them. It was the first time he didn’t have to come back by curfew.

Technically, this was a trial run. If either he or Scott had any issues, there was a room waiting for him at Eichen House, and there would be for the next six months. Scott’s silver anklet would alert the hospital, and local police stations if he left town without Dr. Tate’s explicitly approval, and he was expected to complete 10 hours of therapy per week until someone decided he was good to go.

Stiles was holding his hand like he wanted to crush it, and he was grinning like a kid in a comic store. Every time he had to make a turn, they both did an unfortunately awkward stretch. They’d already scared two other drivers. Stiles didn’t care if he scared more.

"… And to your left is Barry’s Bagels. Barry still owes me for driving his kid home that time, so you can probably get free sandwiches out of him. On your other left is an internet cafe. It’s usually filled with kids from BHU at 2 in the morning, so around that time you should be in my bed naked. Any questions?"

___

The word didn’t seem quite as terrifying as it used to. He sat quietly, face all but plastered against the window and eyes wide. It wasn’t just a short trip beyond the confines of the hospital with overseers in tow, this was real. He was going home with Stiles, he was going to fall asleep in bed beside him and wake up in the same place. Just the thought of that alone made his stomach flutter with excitement. It hadn’t been easy and he’d tried so hard to show them all he had control. After a while, it wasn’t just a show and Scott realized he was able to hold his beast in check around other people. They still made him slightly nervous, but they stopped triggering his reflexes and he learned to see them as something other than a threat. There were a few he’d even talked to on occasion, learning their stories and realizing his wasn’t so unique. The black market smuggling of lycanthropes was rampant, and most there were victims of the trade or survivors of hunting bands. Scott couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride that Stiles was someone who saved people like this and tracked down those who thought people could be bought and sold like pets.

Talking about Peter had helped too, much to his surprise. He could tell it bothered Stiles, his heart would beat faster and the muscles in his jaw would tense, but he wouldn’t say anything until after the session was over and usually then, it was with his demanding mouth trying to rewrite the memories with something better. Scott was still ashamed, but he was learning that he needed to trust someone enough to talk about what happened so he could try and leave it behind. There was no one he trusted more than his best friend.

Scott ran his hand along the window of the jeep, smiling to himself as he half listened to Stiles’s driving tour of town. This stupid old jeep, he’d been stunned when he first realized it was the same Roscoe that Stiles had been using to practice his driving. He’d been dead set to get his actual driver’s license as soon as he was old enough. They weren’t supposed to take it out without his Dad until he passed the test, but that never stopped them from grabbing the keys and heading out as often as possible. It was dumb, but Scott felt an odd sort of satisfaction that he was right back in the same rickety seat like the past decade never existed.

“Hm? Oh, no. Bagels and naked in your bed, got it. Sounds good to me.”

They called this a trial run, Scott called it going home.

___

"Hey, those are very important points," Stiles defended, giving Scott’s hand yet another insistent squeeze. He couldn’t pretend that he’d tried to drive while looking out of only his passenger’s window. Actually, that might have been too generous. Stiles had spent the last forty-five minutes trying not to crash his car, and any responsible road work was purely happenstance. He was distracted, but the cargo he carried was the most precious he could imagine. This had been a long time coming, and the months at Eichen House didn’t cut it.

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever forget the first session he’d sat in on. Dr. Tate’s instructions still rang clear in his mind.  _Input only when addressed; patient-doctor confidentiality was not to be abused,_  and most importantly,  _respect what it meant to be able to hear Scott’s story_. He’d been shaking by the end of it. When Scott asked him if he needed to stop, Stiles had kissed him, soft and chaste like he was afraid of hurting him. They ended the session early. Scott let him hold him that night.

The guided city tours didn’t go to this part of town. Even if trips were reserved for patients who’d shown consistent improvement and the number of participants was always limited, even a small group of shapeshifters held a lot of potential for surprises. 

Stiles got a little into the tour. It didn’t matter that not much had changed over the years. He was going to show him all the right haunts and every quick trick. They would always have memories of the places they grew up, but Stiles wanted to introduce Scott to their neighborhood. Their home. This intersection was familiar. His stomach did a flip

"Ah… This is the closest bus stop. I’ve got a copy of the bus schedules printed out in-er, at home. It’s a bit far, but that’s what you get for being a loser without Roscoe. It’s…" Stiles generously pointed out. Scott stole the rest of his spiel, and Stiles was glad to lose it. Without warning, he tugged on Scott’s arm, urging the werewolf to look at him, even if it meant stealing him away from the scenery that made him smile like that. That was okay. Stiles could make him smile, too.

He kissed Scott like he was trying to claim every inch of his mouth, hungry but playful in the best possible way. He wanted to hear Scott sigh, wanted to make him shiver against Stiles the way he did when Stiles teased just right. He wanted to do that for hours. When the car behind them started honking, he wasn’t exactly shock, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

___

It was so strange looking out the window at his childhood and seeing that it had changed just the same as they had. In his mind, it was perfectly preserved. The video store in the strip mall that had been replaced by an Italian restaurant now. The bowling alley shut down and abandoned, weeds growing tall through the cracks in the parking lot. The place that made those sandwiches his mom used to love and he’d ride his bike all the way back up to the hospital to drop them off for her when she had to work nights. The baseball field where that one terrible summer his Dad wanted him to play and he’d been so awful at it, triggering an asthma attack so strong that he had to go to the hospital. The years sat lightly over the home he remembered, different but enough the same that he knew this place.

Stiles’s voice made it better and kept him grounded so he didn’t lose himself completely in his memories. His thoughts were interrupted, yanked against his friends and kissed until he couldn’t stop the tiny moan from escaping. It was the best way to head off any worries before they grew too overwhelming, there wasn’t any way to think about anything but the feel of Stiles’s mouth and the way Scott always wanted more. The wolf jumped as the car behind them honked, glancing back guiltily before relaxing back into the seat with a laugh.

“Pay attention to the road, dude. Unless you think your Dad is going to get you out of a reckless driving citation? And who needs a rust bucket like Roscoe, you know this is a total death trap. It’s been a death trap since you first got him! I don’t mind the walk or the bus, but you do know I’m going to finally get my hands on a real motorcycle one of these days.” Scott said with a smug little smile. “It’s been a long time coming, there’s nothing you can say that’s going to talk me out of it.”

Scott smiled fondly at his best friend, letting his presence anchor him and keep him calm. It worked better than anything else the wolf had tried over the years, it was like he’d suddenly discovered the trick to it. Holding on to Stiles helped to keep him human and now Scott could keep him. He leaned his head against the window, watching the houses flash by and tried to keep the nervous squirm inside to a minimum even though every beat of his heart sang  _home home home_. “You sure this is safe? No one’s going to come after us or anything? I just have this feeling like…like it was too easy.”

___

"Death trap?!" Stiles exclaimed, personally affronted and obviously willing to fight Scott to the death over his show of disrespect. Or you know, fight to the naked. Whatever came first. It was undermined by tires screeching on pavement, trying to propel them home in the fastest way possible with an accelerator that was lazy at best.

"Go out and buy a momvan," he snapped, petting his steering wheel like maybe it might fall off. There were probably safer rockets to ride. If Roscoe ever did explode, there would be a long line at Stiles’ funeral to express how thoroughly he’d been warned. Yet, the good humor faded from his features, like it had never been there. Stiles needed a moment to pull down the shades over whatever his face claimed. He knew it was already too honest. He squeezed Scott’s hand.

"We’ve taken security measures," he reminded. He’d had to adjust a few of things before Scott moved in. The floor boards of his flat were partially built with rowan bark, an expensive purchase that he’d installed with the salary he earned during his first four months on the force. He’d removed the ash line, disliking the potential fire hazard, but Scott - and other shapeshifters - would still have difficulties transforming while inside. 

He didn’t have many defenses against human monsters. Scott might need those the most. “You earned this.”

Those words felt hollow. Stiles scowled around them, but pressed a kiss to Scott’s knuckles. He slowed as they reached the gated community of his apartment complex, a collection of town houses that seemed a little out of place among so many bungalows. Car owners required photo identification to park, but even when they were kids, they knew how easy it was to get around that. 

As Roscoe’s engine died, sounding like it never wanted to purr again, he let his hand stroke up Scott’s arm to finally settle around his nape. He urged his partner closer, with nipped frustration and base exasperation, kissing Scott until it all faded away. Nothing about this was easy. To Stiles, it still felt like he was fighting. If he could make Scott happy, no matter how briefly, if he could make any difference, well - they could call it whatever they wanted. It wouldn’t deter him in the least. 

Then Scott was folded into his lap, long limbs with nowhere to go and not enough space between the car seat and the steering wheel. Long fingers dug into Scott’s hip, and even if he  _was_  happy to see Scott, that was the gear shift digging into his thigh.

Stiles kissed him until he saw stars. Then he kissed him until they exploded.

___

“Mom van?!” Scott gave him a look of horror. “Dude, I’m talking two sleek wheels of pure motorized sex. Something fast and dangerous with a high tech speed demon edge but classic lines. None of this cruiser nonsenses, I want something that could out run you cops in a matter of seconds.” Doctor Tate had encouraged him to dream big, no matter how ridiculous as long as it got him to start thinking of a future beyond the walls of the hospital. It had taken a while to let himself want something again or believe any of it was possible. His life had been reduced to a day-to-day existence, a schedule and orders to follow, no need to think or question or hope. He thought it would never end and now, he was almost at a loss at how many choices he had to make. Scott knew he hesitated too often and looked to Stiles as if his friend could make the decisions even over the smallest things, but he was learning to take control back. It took time to unlearn these lessons and figure out that he was allowed to want things again.

And there were definitely things he wanted. Scott scrambled awkwardly across the front seat, laughing as he hit the horn and pretty sure the seat belt buckle was leaving an imprint in his ass, but so fucking worth it to moan into Stiles’s mouth. They really were like horny teenagers who couldn’t get enough of each other, and Scott had zero regrets. There were years between them and sometimes it felt like he could never get close enough.

Scott tugged on the door handle and almost tumbled out of the jeep, managing to earn the least graceful exit from a vehicle award. He wobbled a little, smoothing down his hair and grinning widely. He was home, he could feel it like he’d been waiting just for this place. Or maybe just for Stiles. Anywhere that he could be with his love was home and he bounced on the balls of his feet like he was an excited kid again. “Unlock the back, would ya?” He asked, giving Roscoe a light thump with his hand. He hadn’t owned a thing in the world, but the hospital had helped put together a small suitcase of real clothes and a few personal items to help him get started. It was more than he’d had in a long time and only helped make this all feel surreal.

He leaned against the jeep, pausing at the prickle raising the hair on the back of his neck. His posture immediately switched to the defensive, scanning the street for anything that could be considered a threat. It seemed peaceful enough, a quiet slice of suburbia with friendly neighbors who (hopefully) wouldn’t mind their new lycanthrope addition. Maybe a few weres already mixed in the bunch. Something felt out of place and Scott couldn’t quite put his finger on what. “No one knows I’m here, right? It’s not…the hospital didn’t tell anyone?”

___

"Death trap!" Stiles protested once more, scrambling after Scott. He managed to smack his butt, only to choke himself with his seat belt in the process. Still totally counted as a win. 

He tched in reprimand, moving to swat Scott’s ungrateful hands away from Roscoe’s sensitive exterior. That wasn’t even hyperbole. He’d seen werewolves punch through walls. Roscoe was delicate. Generously, he offered, “What if I wanna pop your trunk?”

Stiles plastered himself across Scott’s back, shameless and patient because he’d already gotten what he’d wanted, arms twining around his werewolf’s middle ( _and maybe he could keep getting it_ ). That was the only reason he noticed when Scott tensed, his face tucked into the crook of his partner’s neck.

Dr. Tate had warned him - about a lot of things, in all honesty. Open spaces, for instance, at the institute were nothing like the ones outside of it. Open spaces could be an illusion, nonexistent because of the walls inside a patient’s mind. Scott had been conditioned for a very long time to think a certain way. Stiles had always invested in the school of relative truth, but he wanted an answer key to life now.

He squeezed Scott’s thigh, and kissed his nape, just over the knobs of his spine. “No,” Stiles said, his tone deceptively light despite its steel edge. “Only Dr. Tate and my dad, know… Allison, too. It’s just us, and Luke and Han and woah, I’m turning myself on, huh.”

His fingers tangled with Scott’s, urging his partner to turn and look at him. There was a loaded DVD player, a pizza waiting to be reheated, and five different flavored bags of popcorn waiting for them at home. There was also a bottle of lube, and Stiles wasn’t presumptuous; he was practical. But he still asked, “Do you want to do a perimeter sweep?”

___

“You wouldn’t know what to do once you got under the hood.” Scott huffed, hiding a smile and rolling his hips back against the man behind him. Stiles’s mouth on his neck was almost enough to steal the stress from him, he was a master of distracting Scott whenever he got stuck in his own head. He turned to kiss his human, body tuned to Stiles’s like it was made to fit against him.

It would be so easy to just ignore the feeling. Scott knew it was his own paranoia, it was disturbing to feel himself acting irrationally and not be able to stop it. There was no reason to be nervous, the only people who knew he was here were those he trusted with his life. They weren’t going to let anyone find him, he needed to stop living like he was being hunted. Those days with his mom were over, no more constantly watching over his shoulder or moving from town to town to stay below the radar. He could dig in, put down roots, and live like a normal human being. Even if people eventually found out what he was, he’d be protected. This was supposed to be a safe place and Stiles was always here to watch his back.

_Auugh, just let it go! It was probably nothing._

Scott bowed his head and sighed, unable to shake it off. “I’m sorry, I know I’m just being crazy. Would it be okay to take a look around? I’ll stay here so I’m out of the way I just…” He fidgeted, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just feel like there’s something wrong. Like someone’s watching me.” He mentally kicked himself. Way to sound like a complete psycho.

___

"Hey." Stiles countered, catching Scott by the elbow with a grip that bit. He didn’t like the way Scott’s gaze wandered, focusing on nothing and so different from the wicked impatience that crossed his features when he chased stray thoughts as they argued or teased or debated. He didn’t know what Scott remembered when he fell silent, but Stiles was learning to appreciate caution. Who motivated him would surprise no one. 

"You have keener senses than I ever will, common sense notwithstanding." He didn’t smile. His grip dug into Scott’s skin. Stiles was setting precedent, but he was proud to. "I believe you."

He would always believe Scott. 

"Just stay here. You have my number, if you notice anything else." He checked for his packet of mountain ash before he left. That was only partly for show.

Once there was a boy who cared too much about his own opinion, and the ability to hurt only the ones who loved him. That boy learned the value of silences and giving people what they wanted. Now he could hurt those who crossed him, too.

He believed Scott. He believed something had triggered his reaction, and that didn’t exclude threats. Stiles intended to remove whatever it was. He started towards the gate first, looking over the playground and garden that left no place to hide. He knew the layout of his neighborhood well. He knew where he’d hide if he wanted to hurt someone. What slowed him down was trying to include Dr. Tate’s lectures in his search.

It was closer to ten minutes when he returned, jogging through the adjacent parking zone. He’d made note of the few unfamiliar cars in the vicinity. Stiles wondered how badly Scott would take his findings. A stray cat was the most hostile thing he’d found.  

___

Scott’s spine straightened, a hesitant smile on his face. He wasn’t sure he even believed himself, but Stiles’s faith helped him feel like he wasn’t quite a crazy paranoid nutcase.  _Yet._  He nodded, leaning against the jeep to wait and pretend he wasn’t as nervous as he was. He almost hoped he was just being foolish and there wasn’t anything out there watching.

There was no way to live like this, he couldn’t keep jumping at his own shadow all the time. If he was really going to make this life of his work outside of the hospital or the walls of the Hale mansion, he needed to relax. There weren’t monsters around every corner and Peter…Scott was free. He never had to see that son of a bitch again, Peter wouldn’t find them while he spent the rest of his life rotting in a cell.

The neighborhood really was a nice one, it just screamed safe suburbia. The kind of place you could raise your kids without the “wrong element” influencing them. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Scott knew full well that bored kids became the wrong element all on their own, he never seemed to have any problem getting into trouble with Stiles. It had never been malicious, but laws seemed more like suggestions and Beacon Hills was just so freaking quiet all the time. If they weren’t having fun, they’d go out and make their own, even if it landed them both in the back of Stiles’s father’s cruiser getting a lecture from both their parents. He wondered what these people behind their fences and their rented neighborhood guards would think about a werewolf living among them.

He tensed when he heard Stiles returning, anxious until he saw the way the human moved.  _Nothing?_  Was he really imagining all of this? The feeling had passed, he skin didn’t crawl the same way but Scott would have sworn that there was someone out there. His shoulders slumped just a little, apologetic and embarrassed. “Sorry, dude. I swear, I’m not actually crazy.”

___

"I forwarded a few license plates, but -" He shook his head, but Stiles was pressed against his best friend’s side in an instant. He wouldn’t let Scott regret telling him, even if it meant bullying the regret out of his wolf. Kissing worked, too. Stiles’ features were solemn.

"There could have been something." He still stressed. It was a loaded answer. Hale was an exceptional piece of trash, but there was plenty of litter to go around. People feared what they didn’t understand. Fear brought out the worst in them more often than it brought out the best. Stiles didn’t entertain the thought that he was feeding into Scott’s neurosis. He was running on instinct, and instinct told him to make sure Scott knew he was on his side. The rest would have to follow.

"I’ll give you the tour of the place later, all right?" He suggested after a beat, wanting to wipe away any chance of doubt. There was no space between them, but Stiles still pushed, sliding an arm around Scott’s waist. "But less Disney’s Animal Kingdom, more ninja attack squadron."

Smile, he wanted to order. He kissed Scott’s jaw instead. 

"Do you think like that?" He asked, and this was a conversation they should probably take inside, but Scott had a way of making him forget the rest of the world. "At the Academy, they train you to see things differently. Is that…?"

___

Scott didn’t say anything, leaning against his friend. It  _could_  have been something, but it wasn’t. He shook his head before resting his chin on Stiles’s shoulder. God damn it, his instincts were all screwed up and playing tricks on him. He’d spent too much time in a constant state of alert, chained and waiting for the next kick, he was starting to see Peter everywhere. He knew he was safe, but knowing it and calming that anxious crawling fear were two different things.

Stiles was familiar and reassuring and slowly, Scott let himself be pulled out of his head and back into the real world. “Thanks, dude.” He murmured, grateful that no matter how crazy he seemed, his friend was willing to go out on a line for his peace of mind. “It’s okay, I’m just a little…it’s a bit much, I guess. I don’t know, I thought I was ready for it. I’ll be okay though, I’m in control.” Stiles won a smile, the wolf unable to ever resist his kisses.

“Think like what? Ninja attack squadron?” He frowned, thinking over the question. “I don’t think I live in some kind of kung fu movie, I don’t have the moves for it. I’m more of a brawler than anything, no unnecessary backflips for me. Are you talking about the paranoia? It hasn’t actually been this bad before. I don’t really know what’s wrong with me, I’m not usually this jumpy. Just forget it, it didn’t happen.”

___

"That’s my line," Stiles pointed out, but it wasn’t a reprimand. He almost wished that they could go back to problems that could be ignored, but back then, they didn’t have the option of kissing things better. He searched Scott’s face for guilt, and maybe that was why he saw it. Either way, Scott looked better without it. He kissed the tip of Scott’s nose, decided he liked the direction of this conversation, and wondered when the Hell he’d become so picky with his words.

He glanced over at a floppy head of dark hair, and stopped questioning it.

"Grab your stuff, dude. I’m not your maid," he wheedled, but Stiles didn’t step away. He was perfectly fine, plastered to Scott’s side as he walked him up to his apartment. His tone only shifted in volume, not disposition. "Ninja attack squadron, like - you know how to move in, how to move out. They tried to hammer it home with us. It worked a bit. You’d probably be awesome at parkour."

Stiles cleared his throat, fidgeting with his key chain. “Maybe that would help. If you had - structure, to the way you fought. Or think about fighting. I don’t know, dude. Doc Tate’s the one with the degree… Mi casa su casa.”

He pushed open the door to his one bedroom apartment with a flourish. There was a large couch that took up most of the living room, next to a table that looked like it was going to break under the weight of packaged popcorn. The haphazardly stacked magazines and files in the corner of the room suggested they were normally splayed messily across everything. They were tucked beside a punching bag that hadn’t been set up and had been only dusted on one side. There were too many Hamburger Helpers in the fridge, and only one bed. They were home.

___

Scott was grateful the incident had been dropped. He gave one last look around, carefully searching the spaces between the houses before turning his back on his fear.  _Stop it!_  He slung the bag over his shoulder and smacked Stiles in the back of his head. “Totally my maid, dude. You’d look great in the outfit.” He raised one eyebrow, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “Parkour? I don’t think it’s much like being a ninja. No cool facemask thingies or swords or anything. Just a lot of claws.” He clasped his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a small smile. “I got pretty good at it, I only lost once and that was my own fault.” The wolf didn’t elaborate or offer any details, breezing past the subject like it was nothing.

Hesitating on the threshold, Scott peeked through the door. The bragging cockiness of only moments before disappeared into a cautious quiet. He glanced at Stiles like he needed the permission before slowly easing into the room and setting his small bag on the floor. He could immediately feel a kind of pressure against his skin, calming like some kind of blanket draped over his shoulders. “You did something with the wood?” Scott wiggled his fingers with a smile, getting used to the feeling.

It was bigger than he imagined. Well, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d imagined. Something a little messier than this, though he figured this wasn’t quite the natural state of things. He kicked off his shoes to go barefoot, slowly pacing the perimeter of the apartment like an animal, getting a feel for the space. He traced his hand along the back of the couch, smile growing. Everything smelled like Stiles, it was almost overwhelming. This was clearly his territory and the wolf loved it, the last of his fear fading completely. He circled back to his friend, gathering up the fabric of Stiles’s shirt in his hands and pushing him up against the wall to kiss him. This might be Stiles’s territory, but Scott could still claim what was his. After a moment, he let the human come up to breathe, letting him go to explore the kitchen. “Do you even know how to cook? How have you not starved to death before now?” He whirled, eyes bright with excitement. “I want to learn. Do you think I could? I want to do something to help, I don’t want to just be a burden. Stiles, this place…it’s perfect.”

___

"Rowan wood…" Stiles had mumbled, disinterested and dismissive. He’d wasted an opportunity to make prime wood jokes, but he couldn’t say he cared. Scott was settling into the room like he was pulling on a new skin, feeling it as closely as a new shirt. He trailed after the other teen, trying not to hover, hovering regardless.  

"My dad couldn’t find the floor the last time he was over. So if you smell anything weird, that’s cleanliness." Stiles teased, and the Sheriff had mostly been joking, but Stiles had fed him a veggie burger that day, so they were about square. He wanted Scott to like it. Maybe he needed that approval.

Then his back was to the wall, and Stiles couldn’t remember what he’d been so worried about. There wasn’t enough air in his lungs to moan, mouth slick wet and raw. He couldn’t stop licking it. When Scott moved away, he sulked.

 _You make it perfect,_  he thought, wrapping his arms around Scott from behind, burrowing his face in the crook of his neck. And,  _I should work on my comebacks._

"Pfft, I survive off awesomeness and caffeine. But I can so cook." Stiles huffed, but reached over Scott to flick on the oven. "Making pizza right now. Even took it out of the box."

He laughed, open and delighted, between pinching Scott’s pulse between his lips. “Dude, you were always the one less likely to set the house on fire. Dibs on all your cakes and pies… There isn’t much space here, but - I wanna get you your own stuff. Go with you when you get your stuff. This is home now.”

He cleared his throat, too close to honesty, and it was always difficult to pull out of that vortex. If Scott had lost, Stiles never would have found his body. He smoothed his grip down Scott’s side. “Also sex. On every flat surface. Priorities, man, I’ve got them don’t worry.”

___

“Out of the box? Wow, dude.  You’re like an Iron Chef, I’m impressed.” He pressed backwards against Stiles’s body, wrapping his arms over the human’s.  Scott smiled to himself, tilting his head to allow better access to his neck. “Cakes and pies, seriously? I think you have more faith in my abilities than you should. It’s been a really long time since I’ve made anything, but I’ll learn.” He knew enough of the fundamentals to keep a teenage boy fed while his mom was at work at the hospital during the night shift, but living out of motels hadn’t really given him much of an opportunity to expand his skills. Scott was honestly looking forward to it, the thought of being an actual partner instead of a pet was a nice dream.

 _This is home now_.

Scott hadn’t had a home since he’d left Beacon Hills and now he found himself right back where he started. As far as he’d run, his heart had stayed behind and now he was finally where he belonged. The pieces of his life had come together and he was really home again. The wolf twisted in Stiles’s hands to lean back against the counter and draped his arms around his friend’s neck.

“So glad you’ve got your priorities, at least one of us has to keep an eye on the big picture.” He teased, leaning close to kiss that sarcastic smirking mouth. “I think I might be able to help with that plan. Everything in here smells like you, it’ll take a little work to get it all to smell like  _us_.” Scott bit his bottom lip to hide his wicked grin, rolling his hips forward and knowing exactly what he was doing. “Though it probably should wait until you’re not messing with the stove so you don’t kill us all before I have a chance to actually get used to this place.”

___

"Nah, man, I just really want cake-pies," Stiles chuckled, but Scott was moving, and suddenly they were slotted together, and it was everything he could have wanted. His gaze zeroed in on the way white teeth dragged across pink lips. When Scott moved, he shivered as if commanded.

"You’re not going to distract me from Star Wars; you promised," Stiles mumbled, but he was already leaning forward, sucking the swell of Scott’s mouth like he wanted to make up for all the abuse it had to endure by utterly ruining it. He licked his way passed Scott’s lips, keening at the first tease of tongue. Someone was going to burn the flat down at this rate. Stiles gave negative fucks.

They had all night. They had the rest of their lives. Stiles was going to make it last if it killed him, but it would be the most pleasant death. They could spend another three days, lost in each other, like their first reunion. Allison and his sergeant knew Scott was coming home this weekend. Stiles was already planning on calling in sick, which would surprise no one.

He wanted Scott to see their room. Stiles had been so worried about how much closet space to give Scott, embarrassingly so. It was like that time he couldn’t decide what to buy Lydia Martin for her birthday, and bought nearly everything at Macy’s (his dad made him return it all; he’d never given Lydia her necklace; Scott laughed so hard, he needed his inhaler). Too much might intimidate him, too little might insult him. Now, he just wanted Scott to share.

He wanted Scott in their bed.

"You’re gonna get so used to this place. I’m gonna use you on every friggin’ piece of anywhere I can push-"

His phone interrupted that happy fantasy. Stiles groaned into Scott’s neck as the Jaws theme song started to play. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider throwing his phone across the room. It was the office though. He’d have to answer.

___

Scott smiled into Stiles’s kiss, delighted that his underhanded tactics had worked. He caught the human’s mouth between his teeth, careful not to hurt as he slid his own tongue through parted lips. The wolf couldn’t stop the pleased little growl that escaped him, running his hands through the back of Stiles’s head and rolled his hips again. The promise to watch Star Wars was long overdue and Scott meant to make good on his word, but the thought of christening their home with something a little more personal was tempting. Having sex in every inch of the apartment seemed like a good place to start.

He knew Doctor Tate had concerns about their relationship. She never said as much, but they were both shifters and there was so much communicated in the physical that sometimes you didn’t need to put words to it. He could guess her worries, it made sense. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t healthy? Too consuming, too obsessive, too willing to give up everything in him to Stiles without holding anything back for himself. Co-dependent and vulnerable, but he didn’t give a damn. They had never made sense, even as kids. His mom had worried that he should be making more friends, but Scott had never seen the point. He had Stiles, what else did he ever need? His friend was brilliant and brave and full of ideas, all they did was laugh until he couldn’t breathe and speak without speaking. It was love before he was old enough to understand the concept.

When they kissed, it was like they’d always been this way. Like the line between friends and lovers had never even existed. Eleven years apart before they’d had a chance to say said a word about love or attraction and it had happened so easily that there was no questioning it. Scott had always assumed he would spend his life with Stiles, best friends through the ages. This was so much better. Scott planned on making up for every missed moment and building a lifetime of new ones.

And  _god_  he wanted to be fucked up against the kitchen counter.

“Shit.” He hissed under his breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter top and leaning back with a frustrated sigh. “Ignore it. C’mon, dude, you don’t have to answer.”

___

Scott had permission to use every underhanded trick in the book and then some, if it got him naked and dick touching. Stiles approved. Stiles approved and gave that three fucking gold stars, emphasis on the  _fucking._ (They made love; they were going to make love, and Scott better tease the fuck out of him for that because Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way).

He whined into Scott’s mouth, insolent and impatient, swaying his hips. His fingers curled into the belt loops of Scott’s jeans, tugging him close to find a rhythm that they were still trying to perfect. They probably never succeed, not when messing up felt so good.

"No’s’office, gotta answer," he grumbled, lips brushing like a final goodbye, except, no. "One more." Not when he could suck Scott’s tongue into his mouth and make him groan. "One more." Not when he could trace the line of Scott’s lips until he shuddered. "W’more." Not when Scott’s mouth tasted sweeter than honey. "More…"

He shoved Scott against the counter, as far as his werewolf would let him, dragging him into an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth on teeth, tongue on tongue, he mapped out every inch of Scott’s mouth like an eager explorer, coaxing out groan after groan until his head was spinning and his jaw ached, but none of it mattered, nothing except Scott.

He was panting when they separated, still absently patting Scott’s hip, and if they’d been on Amity Island, they’d probably both have been eaten.

"Stilinski Emergency Hotline - this better be an emergency."

Allison didn’t rise to the bait. Stiles registered her tone before he could wish that she did. “He’s out.”

And for a second, all he could think about was how he wished he could have that conversation in a different room.

___

The wolf felt kiss drunk and feverish, the world reeling in all the best ways. _More_. It was a plea, a command, whatever would make sure this never stopped. It was sharp edges and mistakes and laughing, too perfect, too intense, too everything and not even close to enough. Scott used every trick he could think of to distract Stiles, hips rutting insistently, shamelessly hard and moaning with the skill of a porn star. Work could wait. Food could wait. Scott just wanted Stiles to pull back on his hair and make him scream for it.

“Please.” He murmured into his human’s neck, licking the pulse with just the lightest scrape of teeth. Scott didn’t stop when the detective answered his phone, determined to prove as disrupting as possible.  His hands dropped low to Stiles’s waist, slipping beneath his shirt and tracing lightly up his spine as Scott kissed into the curve of his shoulder. He probably should have felt at least a little bit guilty about this, Stiles did have an important job, after all. He _should_  feel guilty.

Everything came crashing to an abrupt halt at those two little words that shattered whatever illusion of safety Scott had started to build around his life. He froze before jerking backwards, eyes too wide and panic crowding in his chest. No…no, no not possible. They’d promised, Stiles had said he was safe. He’d said they had Peter, that it would be okay. How could they have let him out?! Oh god, Peter was going to find him, it was only a matter of time. No wonder he felt like they were being watched, what if his people were already here? Running was the only option, he needed to get out of here and go as far away as possible, hoping he’d be able to outrun the Hale’s reach. Scott twisted, trying to squirm his way free.

___

Stiles was trembling where he stood, like he wanted to vibrate right out of his clothing. Everything was too tight, suffocating, and he and Scott should have just been getting started. There was so much they wanted to do. There was so much they’d missed.

Part of him was still racing to catch up with Allison, trying to make sense of her words, but skitter in Scott’s hands was infinitely clearer. His heart lodged in his chest, and he lurched forward, like they were doing a clumsy tango. “I’ll call you I gotta-“ 

He wasn’t sure if he’d put the phone on hold or speaker or hung up, but it fell to the counter with a clang should have worried him. Stiles moved to trap Scott against the counter, never considering for even a moment that he wouldn’t have the strength to keep him.

"No. Scott - Scott look- !" His grip tightened on Scott’s forearms, a calloused hand stroking down Scott’s face. He already looked so pale, and Stiles struggled how to remember how to breathe. They were too close to properly fight, and Stiles knew that if it ever came to that, he’d be on his back in seconds.

Scott wouldn’t hurt him.

"Look at me. Scott, look at me!"

___

“Let go!!” He was trapped, penned in and feeling caged. This wasn’t safe, he had to get free before it all came crashing down. Scott put his hands on Stiles’s chest, shoving hard enough to send him stumbling back and put a clawed accusatory finger in the human’s face. The change started to creep along his skin fueled by his terror and his racing heart, but it was like Scott didn’t even notice the shift, his abilities dampened by the rowan wood around him.

“You told me you had him! You  _said_ , Stiles! How could they just let him out like that, don’t they know what he’s like? I told you he was dangerous, he can talk himself out of anything. He gets in your head and you can’t…you can’t…” Scott dug the heel of his palm into his temple. “I can’t stay, he going to find me here. How many Stilinskis are there in Beacon Hills? He’ll find me if he hasn’t already, it won’t be that hard for a man like him. I can’t go back!”

Those were the only options. Peter wasn’t going to just let him go, not with everything he knew and especially when he found out about his relationship with Stiles. Either the Hale would try to take him back or just get him out of the way entirely. Scott didn’t have any hope that his life was worth more to Peter than his own. He had to run, that was the only way to keep himself and Stiles safe, put distance between them and maybe Peter wouldn’t use his best friend as a bargaining chip. Scott slid down to the floor, back against the kitchen cabinets and wrapped his arms around his knees to make himself as small as possible.

He’d never escape, no one escaped Peter Hale. He buried his face in his arms and gave a quiet sob. They were all going to die, or worse, he’d find himself right back at Peter’s feet.

___

Stiles should have learned his lesson by now. He should have done a lot of things. He knew where his closest gun was. He knew how long it would take him to load silver bullets. He knew how long it would take a response team to get to his apartment, and by then, Scott would be long gone, if he wanted to be. He could have trapped him there. He could distrust anyone except Scott. There was a decade of proof that should have dissuaded that. It hadn’t.

Stiles crouched in front of Scott, a good foot of space between them, except for where he gripped Scott’s knee. 

"Scott." He whispered, and his pulse was steady, and he was sure, as sure as he loved Scott, and as sure as they were going to fight back. A quiet hush stilled his thoughts, burning through them until it was all he knew, and in that instant, Stiles didn’t know what could stop him. Stiles didn’t know what was stopping him now. "If he comes anywhere near you, I’ll kill him."

There was justice, and there was the law. Then there was revenge. 

When his fingers curled around Scott’s nape, it was to pull him close and kiss him.

___

The wolf went still, raising his head to stare at Stiles in shock. The promise knocked him from his panic, the steady heartbeat behind the words driving it home. He let himself be pulled into the kiss, but not even that could leech the tense fear from his body. “You can’t kill him.” Scott said, voice low and broken. “I won’t let you. You’d throw everything away for me and I need you to be okay. If he finds out that you’re going to try to stop him, he’ll come after you too and he isn’t going to hesitate to ruin everything you care about. Your job, your Dad, he knows how to hurt you and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.” He kissed his love again, lips barely lingering over the skin. “I won’t let you turn into a killer, Stiles. He’s already done that to me, I won’t let him ruin you too.”

Scott leaned back against the cabinets, eyes empty and completely hopeless. Every time he dared to think about a future, it was ripped away from him and he was starting to wonder why he kept leaving himself open when all it did was hurt. Why didn’t he ever seem to learn?

“He will be coming, it’s only a matter of time. I should run, it’s the only way to be sure. If I stay, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to protect you, Stiles. If it comes to it, I’ll kill him but it would be easier to just disappear. I can…maybe I’ll be able to come back someday when he’s finally moved on.” Scott wanted to kill the Hale more than he’d wanted almost anything else, but he knew if the chance ever came, he might not take it. Peter’s grip was strong and Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever be free of it. “You have to let me go. I don’t know any other way.”

___

"You don’t understand," Stiles hissed, pulling himself closer to Scott. Long fingers tangled in silken locks, tugging sharp and insistent, on the wrong side of rough. He needed Scott to look at him, more importantly, to see him. Scott was slipping through his fingers, and felt too much like there was nothing he could do about it.

 _You don’t understand. I’d do anything for you. I need you. I would kill for you. I’ve been ready to kill for you. Youcan’tleaveme!_  Stiles held on tighter. He dragged in a ragged breath of air, and he’d never been tactful, or careful. With Scott he had to try. It would tear Stiles apart if he didn’t. 

"This doesn’t change anything Scott. It doesn’t. He’s out there - so what? He goes anywhere near you, or Isaac, or Jane or any other lycanthrope, and we’ll be all over him. You’re safe here, Scott. I can take care of you," He punctured the words with an angered hiss, dragging Scott into another kiss,bruising soft lips between his teeth. He was demanding, brutal. He wouldn’t let Scott accept any less, and maybe if he could push hard enough, Scott would just - collapse. 

"You ran," he accused, voice soft but words chastising. "And it didn’t work. Stay -  _fight._ You’re good here, all of you.”

Isaac who’d been getting closer to one of the Eichen House orderlies and his spitfire of a wife; Jane, who still didn’t have her own name, but who’d finally woken from her coma and Scott. Scott had Stiles. Stiles needed to keep him.

"This is where you belong."  

___

Scott whimpered into the kiss, overwhelmed and trying hard not to surrender as much as he wanted to. He had to be strong, he had to make the hard decisions. Who cared what happened to him, he couldn’t let Peter get to Stiles. Once the Hale realized what Stiles meant to him, it was only a matter of time before his love found himself in the crosshairs.

You couldn’t fight Peter, Scott understood what that meant. He’d never come at you directly, he’d target your family, your loved ones until you caved. He would twist his words around and around until you weren’t sure what was the truth anymore and you couldn’t trust anyone. Scott wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just fall to his knees if Peter ordered him to and his insides twisted in shame. He  _hated_  the Hale, that wasn’t even a question but Peter had broken him and there were dark, awful parts inside of Scott that still craved him. Stiles could never know.

“I ran because he’s already won.” He traced his fingertips down the side of Stiles’s face. “There is no safe anymore, not for me and not for you. As long as he considers me a threat, then he won’t stop. I’d rather leave you than lose you to him.”  _I don’t want to lose you at all. Please, please don’t let me lose you again._  “I belong somewhere that isn’t going to get you killed. If something happened to you because of him, how would I ever go on without you? I’m sorry you were dragged into this mess, I should have known better. I wish…I want…I wanted this, Stiles. More than anything, just know that, okay? It was closer than I ever thought I’d get to living again.”

___

"Then take it," Stiles hissed, and his hands were everywhere, forcing Scott back, pressing him against the cabinets. He smoothed down Scott’s chest, as if he could steal his fears just as easily. He kissed Scott, because it got him to still. He kissed him like he wanted to prove something, like he could chip away his defenses, and it worried him sometimes, that this was how Scott knew how to speak. The structured discussions in front of Dr. Tate were effective, but when he wanted to reach Scott, really reach him and quickly, Stiles did this. He spoke with his hands, and his mouth. He spoke with his entire body to push through each point. He exploited what he knew to make Scott yield. He still kissed him like he thought he’d break. When he nuzzled into Scott’s fingers, it was gentle.

"I wasn’t dragged into this. I looked for it. I chose this, and I chose you, Pikachu." He kissed the tip of Scott’s nose, and there was nothing funny about this. Stiles needed Scott to believe it was still them. "I’m not alone. You’re not either. It’s - my dad, the police… Dr. Tate. We’re here. No one’s going to let you get hurt."

No one was going to let him go. Stiles would force him to stay if he had to. Softly, he pressed promises into Scott’s skin, wrapping his arms around him, to trap Scott from another side, urging him to track his movements. “If you leave, I know I wouldn’t make it.”

___

He could just force his way free and leave, it was the smart decision, but Scott submitted to Stiles’s touch. He was just so tired of being afraid and pushing everyone away when all he wanted was to hold on forever. He was so tired of facing this alone. Scott twisted his hands into his friend’s shirt like he was the only solid thing left in the world to hang on to. As much as he never wanted to face Peter again, it wasn’t his own life that he was afraid for. Stiles was going to be the one to get hurt and damn, if Scott wasn’t selfish enough to risk him. Would it be so bad to believe the human could defend himself, even against the Hale? Was there hope?

“If I ran, you’d come after me, wouldn’t you?” Scott asked quietly, body slowly easing into Stiles like he couldn’t stop himself. “You wouldn’t let me go even if I tried. You stupid, stubborn asshole. I really hate you sometimes.” The wolf clutched at his human, holding him close. If he couldn’t run, then he had to fight. There must be a way to get to Peter before anyone got hurt and he needed to be strong enough to finally end that monster once and for all. For Stiles, he could do anything. What was one more body?

Scott kissed the side of his face, gentle and suddenly calm as he reached his decision. Stiles could believe that he trusted in all the safety measures they’d taken, he didn’t have to know the bloody details of Scott’s plan. Let him stay happy for as long as possible, Stiles was still a good man and nothing was going to ruin it. “I’ll stay.”

___

"Oh thank God," blended with anger and frustration and sweet, sweet hope, whispered into Scott’s mouth with a twisted, "Fuck you."

It changed everything, and nothing at all. Stiles wouldn’t stop kissing him, wouldn’t stop touching him, but now there was something loaded behind each gesture, a frenetic energy that pulsed like Stiles wanted to push Scott further and further until he didn’t dare reconsider his decision. He pushed into him, greedy hands running down the side of Scott’s frame with proprietary insistence.

"Stay with me," he demanded, needing to hear it again as he worked his way across Scott’s throat, leaving his jaw flushed and raw with blunt teeth and wet lips. He could never make the bruises stick, but that didn’t stop Stiles from trying. "You’re mine, Scott - you’re mine. Only mine. Always come for you… Want you to come for me."

___

It was probably wrong for this to feel so good, thrilled with harsh hands and forceful tone. Sick to get off of on it, especially after he’d just decided to murder a man but maybe he really was just sick and twisted. Peter had made him into this, shaped him over the years into something violent and sharp even if Stiles didn’t see it and it was only fitting that his creation be the thing that ended the Hale.

“I’m yours…yours…” he moaned, never able to resist this when it was Stiles and giving in felt right. Scott slowed his healing as much as possible, wanting every bruise and mark to mar his skin like he could wear them to prove Peter couldn’t have him. Everyone needed to know that he didn’t belong to Peter anymore, he wasn’t just some kind of pet to sit at his master’s feet and fight or fuck on command .

He didn’t want gentle, there was nothing sweet or loving about this. It was desperate and fearful, thrumming with possessive anger and Scott wanted it to hurt like the pain could somehow make it real. He bit down on Stiles’s lip hard enough to draw blood, running his tongue across the wound. “I won’t leave you, I promise. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

___

Stiles snarled, anger resounding deep in his throat, the bitter taste of copper spilling between their mouths, but he tugged hard on Scott’s side, dragging him forward so he could bend him in half. It wasn’t enough. He wanted Scott screaming it with frantic moans and dizzy promises, He wanted Scott laid bare, shattered and vulnerable, until he couldn’t dare think of leaving Stiles, and that scared him. Their desperation scared him. He didn’t stop pushing.

He yanked off Scott’s pants, nails scratching along his hips as he tore off his boxers. He pushed Scott’s shirt up far enough that he could curl his grip around his wolf’s ribs. He didn’t stop until Scott was a panting mess beneath him, spread out on the kitchen floor. 

He wrapped his fingers around Scott’s throat, tugging him closer with a grip that dug into his pulse. He sucked his tongue into his mouth until Scott’s moans came with it. Whenever he bruised plush lips, they healed over. So Stiles did it again, and again, and again.

"On your knees," he ordered, and Stiles sounded like he’d been giving head for hours.

___

Scott trembled, eyes wide again but not with fear. He fought with no intention of escaping, crying out at the sharp cut of Stiles’s nails and the rough treatment as he was forcibly stripped. He writhed, each little wound buzzing through his nerves until he felt like he was coming apart. Moans turned to panicked gasps as the human’s hand closed around his throat, vision sparkling at the edges as he lost himself in Stiles’s perfectly cruel mouth.

He gave a sob as he was released, scrambling to obey and pulled himself to his knees with his head bowed. He took a shuddering breath, hands curled into fists against his thighs and trying to keep the shaking from getting stronger. Stiles had never spoken to him like this, the anger in his friend was terrifying and he  _wanted_ it. Sick and twisted was right, what the hell was wrong with him? It was too much like Peter, all the shameful things he’d been trained to love.

There was no way to stop himself from goading it further, afraid to know how far Stiles could go and wanting it so badly. “If I tried to leave, you couldn’t stop me, Stiles.” He said, voice breaking on the words. “You can’t save me and you can’t keep me. What are you gonna do?”

___

"You like this," Stiles accused, words wrapped in a vicious snarl as his fingers wrapped around Scott’s cock. A thrill of heat surged through him, at his Scott, his Scotty, posed as pretty as a picture, like he could be meek and docile and all those other things they both knew he wasn’t. This close, he could feel Scott shaking, and part of Stiles wanted to make sure he wasn’t crying, make sure he was okay. He wanted to make sure that this was good, this was more than the hard dick in his hand and the taste of Scott’s sweat. Part of him wanted to see if Scott looked as pretty when he was crying over Stiles.

"You want this," he hissed, covering Scott’s body with his own. He bit down the curve of his wolf’s shoulders, like he was trying to tear flesh off bone. He wanted bruises to tell stories for days. He wanted Scott to feel them every time he moved. "I’ll make you want this. I’ll fuck you into the floor, Scott, until you can’t walk, until you can’t move. Do you want it, Scott? Want me to tie you down, fuck you every way til Sunday. Want me to make you mine? You’re mine, Scott. You’re fucking mine."

Words slurred, syllables dragging into one another as Stiles cursed promises he couldn’t keep. His pace was punishing, tugging hard on Scott’s shaft, his palm dry. The rustle of fabric felt too loud. His jeans barely pushed passed Stiles’ hips. The flick of a bottle uncapping seemed to come from a different world. When he pushed into Scott, cock slick with lube, all Stiles could do was groan.

___

There was no denying it, his entire body bowed to Stiles’s will, ready and eager to be abused.  Scott was ashamed, his body responding without his permission, tainted needs exposed. He panted for breath, wordless pleas falling from bruised lips. He couldn’t pull his thoughts together enough to form words, Stiles’s grip too hard and just this side of painful and all Scott could do was beg for more. His shame was laid bare, there was no way to hide how much he needed this, how much he liked the rough treatment. How much rage was Stiles keeping inside?

Scott wailed as the human’s teeth bit down hard, pain shooting through his shoulder and leaving him shuddering with pleasure. “Please!” The word tore itself free as the wolf sobbed, tears streaking down his face as traitorous body thrust into Stiles’s fist. His back arched, sweat beading slick down his skin. “Yes! I-I want…to be yours. Anything, Stiles, anyth-ah! Fuck me, please fuck me. I need you.”

He didn’t have time to prepare before Stiles thrust into him, hands grasping for the human’s hips and trying to get him to move. He push himself against his master’s body, needing a sharper angle.  _Master._  God, just the word had him writhing and it hurt so fucking good he could barely breathe. It was true, Stiles owned him body and soul, he’d given up control and it felt like something flipped within him. Desperate fighting turned needy and submissive as he accepted his role. He couldn’t leave, he belonged to Stiles and would let his master do anything he wanted with him. Scott had never felt so safe.

___

"You won’t leave. You’re mine. You’re mineyou’remine!" Stiles swore, hips snapping to an agonizing beat with each word. Scott felt so good like this, so sinfully good, hot and tight and trembling against him. Trills of pleasure surged up his spine, his knees scraping on tile as he pushed for faster, harder, more. _Scream_ , he commanded without words, dragging his hand up his werewolf’s flank. He left white lines that he wished would break, would bleed. His other palm never slowing over Scott’s swollen cock, smearing precum across his fingers and down Scott’s shaft.  _Howl._

His grip curled around Scott’s throat, forcing him to look towards Stiles, just far enough that Stiles could lick tears off his flushed face. He held tight, bruising beneath the hard lines of Scott’s jaw. The feel of his pulse jumping against his skin, the chance to command and control it, it drove Stiles wild. He knew it was wrong. He couldn’t say why, but it was wrong in the same way stealing could be and violence should be. Stiles didn’t care. He should have been a lot of things, but he could never stop being greedy, especially with Scott.

Always with Scott.

He bit hard on kiss bruised lips, painting a wet stripe up Scott’s jaw with his tongue. He fucked him until he couldn’t take it, until his hold shook, and his arms ached and his muscles screamed in pain. Stiles yelled when he came. He sounded like an animal.

His head was still spinning when he fell back on his hunches, pulling out with a slick squelch. “Stand,” he ordered, and he didn’t know if it was anger or if it was pain. He couldn’t tell anymore, and didn’t care. His skin thrummed with lingering energy, and pleasure left everything hazy. He still knew Scott would obey.

___

This was an agony. Scott wanted to agree and assure Stiles that he couldn’t leave, that he belonged here with him but the only thing that escaped him was a shaky sob. The human used him with frightening skill, pain and pleasure blurring together until he fell apart. He didn’t know if he should thrust back against Stiles’s cock that slammed hard into his body or into Stiles’s fist, too hard and relentless in the pleasure it demanded from him. Scott felt a momentary flare of jealousy towards whoever had taught Stiles to be so beautifully harsh. Or maybe this rage had lurked beneath pale skin and restless fingers the entire time?

Scott screamed, trying to beg though he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop or needed more. He dropped his head, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair before being jerked back into Stiles’s grip. He swallowed hard and struggled to breathe, disconnected from any thought but the need racing through his veins. He was flying, lost to everything but the physical touch, entire body hypersensitive and shivering.  When Stiles came, he didn’t even notice, too far gone until the human pulled away and he whimpered at the loss.

The wolf collapsed down to his forearms, trying to understand the command. Words didn’t make sense and it took him a minute before he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and pulled himself to his feet. He wobbled, muscles protesting and knees scraped and raw as he looked down at Stiles with unfocused eyes. “M-master.” The word was mumbled and barely intelligible, slipping past his lips without his consent as Scott wrapped a hand around his own aching cock.

___

A hush seemed to have fallen over them, and all Stiles could do was watch. His knuckles ghosted over Scott’s knees, stroking a curve over skin that had gone an angry red. Scott was shaking, so minutely, it seemed like he had no chance of controlling it. Tears caught on his long lashes, casting shadows across his cheeks in the harsh kitchen light. His cocked leaked pre down its shaft, spilling drops on the ground. Scott looked ruined. He was the most beautiful thing in Stiles’ life, and he always would be.

"Turn around," he commanded, guiding Scott with careful hands so he could lean against the counter. When Stiles cupped his buttocks, his nails left crescents in soft flesh. Stiles forgot how to breathe as he watched his cum dribble down skin sweeter than caramel. He licked it up slowly, burying his face in supple globes. He nosed along Scott’s crack, inhaling sharply, and the scent went all the way to his cock, making him want to climax again. His tongue stabbed into Scott’s abused entrance, gentle only in comparison, and Stiles let his seed dribble down his face as he licked his wolf clean.

Master, he thought, lapping at silken skin like a kitten. He teased his way to Scott’s balls, sucking him from behind, but letting his partner play with himself. _Letting him_. He could stop him if he wanted to. Dull teeth sank into Scott’s thigh, and that was the only time Stiles paused before smearing his own cum all over his mouth. He kissed Scott’s hole, sucking and tasting until he felt Scott shudder in his hands, 

When Scott fell, he would be there to catch him.

He wondered if he should thank Peter Hale

___

Scott moaned, supporting all of his weight against the counter as his legs threatened to give way. This was new, Peter had never touched him like this before. It would have been beneath him to care so much about how Scott felt. The Hale wielded pleasure like a weapon, cutting deep to leave Scott begging and pleading for him, willing to do anything just to find release. And when it came, the rush of gratitude and shame would overwhelm him, leaving him the perfect obedient little pet. Peter never did anything to make Scott feel like this without an ulterior motive or anything so giving.

 He keened at the touch of Stiles’s tongue, mind reeling and broken. The play of teeth with gentle kisses, the whole thing so powerfully intimate as the human’s tongue teased his hole was the thread that unraveled his control. Scott jerked his grip, voice too wrecked to scream as he came over his hand and down the side of the kitchen cabinets. His eyes rolled back as he loosened his hold and stroked his hand through the climax.

He tried to keep himself upright, holding tight to the edge of the counter but his mind and his body seemed disconnected and he couldn’t brace himself. Scott swayed before slowly collapsing down to his bruised, raw knees, resting his forehead against the cabinets and trying to relearn how to breathe. The wolf floated, eyes half lidded and completely unaware. The rush of adrenaline and memories of Peter’s hands, coaxing and demanding and commanding left him trapped in his own head.

___

Stiles wrapped his arms around Scott’s middle and tugged him back, until his werewolf was tucked against his chest. His legs folded under him, and the floor was too cold, too harsh. His jeans felt too tight, one of the buttons digging into his thigh and threatening to leave a mark. Stiles didn’t care. Stiles couldn’t. All he cared about was the beautiful boy in his arms, and finding all the ways he could keep him.

"I love you," he rasped, so soft he wondered if Scott would hear him. He pressed kisses along his partner’s jaw, up parted lips and on the soft skin beneath his eyes. He held Scott until the world stop feeling like it was falling to pieces, then he held him because if he let him go, it would start all over again.

Part of him was angry, but it was a distant faction, no less desperate, no less vicious but - tired. The rest of him was scared. He couldn’t hurt Scott, no matter how tightly he held on or how deep he scratched and bit, but he could hurt him like Hale had. And if Scott wanted to go, Stiles wouldn’t be able to stop him. He’d chase after him. Nothing would stop that, but they could lose another eleven years. Stiles couldn’t live with losing another day.

He buried his face in Scott’s hair. He could still taste sweat and sex on his tongue, and everything should have felt good, like it normally did when it was them. It didn’t. He traced underside of Scott’s jaw, where the lines his hands had left were slowly fading.  _Please don’t leave me._  

___

The wolf was limp, unable to resist as he was pulled against his love and nuzzled weakly against him. His mind was still fragmented and full of white noise, not sure how to cope with what just happened. Stiles had been demanding before, his friend was all edges and impatience while Scott was the gentle hand. They complimented each other, he didn’t expect any less when they were together but nothing prepared him for this or how intensely he’d wanted it. It was so much like Peter and so different and Scott felt ashamed to even make the comparison.

He looked up at Stiles, struggling to understand. When Peter owned him, he’d submitted because he had to at first, the need for it came later after brutal lessons were inscribed into his bones. For Stiles, he’d been willing from day one, eager and needy without the cruelty that broke him. But did he want this because of Peter? Was it tainted and wrong because it was something the Hale had trained him for or did Stiles make it somehow better to want this?

Or would Stiles be disgusted with him?

Scott ran his tongue across his sore, swollen lips, eyes searching his human’s face for confirmation that this had been okay. The words whispered into his skin sparked a light in brown eyes and he smiled, sweet and bright like he hadn’t just been begging for something painful and filthy. A weary hand reached out to lightly stroke through the human’s messy hair, conceding without words. He was trapped as sure as if he’d been chained to the floor. Scott couldn’t leave even if he tried.

___

Scott smiled, and Stiles didn’t know if his heart was breaking or mending. It didn’t matter. It was Scott’s, all of it. Jaded and cold as it might have been, it belonged to the love of his life. Stiles never wanted it back. He couldn’t breathe, shivering under gentle touches he could barely feel. He could still see where tear tracks left Scott’s cheeks splotchy, where teeth had gotten too rough. 

He kissed Scott slowly, closed-mouth and sweet. He made it linger between them, shy like they hadn’t been in years, shy like they never truly knew how to be. “I love you,” Stiles murmured, and he was infinitely careful as he smoothed his hands down Scott’s bare back. Tears welled in his eyes, Stiles nuzzled closer, hiding them against his best friend’s throat.

The first day Stiles had him back, Scott thought his Master orchestrated everything that could crush him. Stiles never wanted to be that.

"I could have hurt you," he whispered, dragging his knuckles across the mess on Scott’s chest. His jaw ached. His arms still trembled, and in a few hours, Scott would look like nothing had ever touched him. There were people who’d wanted to break him just for that. "I could’ve- god. Not - not again. I won’t do that. Not unless you want it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."

___

“Stop.” Scott finally found his words, voice hoarse and ragged around the edges. He pulled away, wincing as he crawled to his sore, wounded knees. “Stop.” He cupped Stiles’s face with a trembling hand, kissing him soundly to silence his friend. It had started as something chaste and gentle, but Scott couldn’t keep the edge of desperation from cutting through, licking into Stiles’s mouth with a soft growl and tangling his fingers into the human’s hair.

“You can’t hurt me.” He whispered fiercely. “You can’t because of what I am and because it’s _you_. Don’t apologize, please. I trust you, Stiles. Even if you’re angry, you’d never go too far and you were right about me. I-I wanted it. I liked it, I was pushing for it and I…you can’t blame yourself. I could have stopped you if I wanted to, you know that.” It wasn’t entirely true. He was a werewolf and had all the strength and skills that came with being a monster but the control had nothing to do with physical power.  Peter had never feared Scott using his claws, the obedience beat into him before he’d had a chance to fight. He could never have forced Stiles away when just a word could bring him to his knees, but he could have always said ‘no’.  Simple, easy, and he knew Stiles would listen.

“I know what this makes me but it feels good. I don’t mean to like it as much as I do, but I can’t stop. I didn’t mean to goad you into this, I know it’s wrong but I love you and I like being yours. I’m scared, dude, but I want to stay with you.”

___

A spasm of panic ripped through Stiles’ form when Scott pulled away, but he was kissing him in the next second. All Stiles could do was fall apart. He leaned into Scott, desperate for that proximity, his shirt still clinging to him in all the wrong places, socks a mocking reminder of his impatience. He kissed his lover again and again, and maybe when he stopped, he’d be able to face the world. Stiles didn’t think he would’ve stopped. It felt like nothing in the world could have made him.

"I don’t know if you can, Scott," he confessed. He licked his wolf’s lips, like he could soothe his voice that way. He was sorry, but they were both in two deep. They’d just have to learn how to swim. "Or if you would… I don’t think you’d tell me to stop if you wanted me to."

Scott had a Master who wanted to own a monster. There were words Stiles knew not to use, words that lead to programming that Dr. Tate and Scott still worked to carefully unravel. There was a time Stiles would have tried to figure out just what they were, arming himself even against his best friend, an arsenal that he never planned on using but could - if he needed to. Now, Stiles would rather break an arm than consider that, but he wondered if he was just keeping his wolf trained for when Hale returned.

He cupped Scott’s cheek, and drew a smile across its curve with his thumb. 

"What it makes you," he insisted through clenched teeth. "Is a guy who likes rough sex. That’s it. A guy who - who needs to talk about it. Who’s gotta figure it out - with _me_. I’m not doing anything until we figure out a way to make sure we stop. If we have to.”

Scott’s hair was in disarray. His throat was still covered with fading bruises. “I want you to be mine… I wanna take you to bed.”

___

Scott didn’t know if it was true, would he ever be able to say no to Stiles? Did he even want to? He would let his friend do anything he wanted, push farther than anyone had, let Stiles break him apart and beg for more. It was his choice, wasn’t it? He stayed because he wanted this and because he was in love, it was different than Peter. It had to be different… However the Hale had twisted his emotions and played with his mind to train Scott’s needs, he had never trusted Peter. There was always that underlying fear that he wouldn’t please Peter enough and would be punished or killed and when it was all over, he’d hate himself for the things he did.

He felt a little guilty now, embarrassed that this part of himself had been exposed, but Scott didn’t feel the same self-loathing for his submission. He was calm, relaxed and settled in some strange way, like even Peter’s release from prison couldn’t touch him now. Scott knew he shouldn’t feel like this, but he wasn’t sure he could regret it now.

“You say it like it’s totally normal.” Scott tried to joke, brushing his lips across Stiles’s fingers. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I could say no if I wanted to, I just…don’t. It doesn’t matter how far it goes, you’ll never do anything I can’t heal from, Stiles. And I feel okay, it’s nice now.”

The wolf wrapped his hand around Stiles’s own, lacing their fingers together and smiling to himself. “I didn’t know you had that in you, dude. It was kind of amazing, to tell you the truth.” He stopped himself from asking the question, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. Instead, he brought Stiles’s hand to his cheek, nuzzling against him. “I’ve been yours since before I knew what it meant. I’ve been yours since we were invisible losers and you were the only person who ever actually saw me. I love you, and you’re mine too, don’t forget that part.” Scott kissed the side of his human’s cheek, taking a tally of all the aches and bruises as he tried to find the energy to stand. “And you left the stove on.”

___

Stiles wondered what Dr. Tate would think about this. Scott made promises that left him shivering, daring him in the worst possible way. He could do anything he wanted to him, and Scott would take it all. He could tear him apart, and Scott would ask for more. He _couldn’t_ hurt Scott. Stiles didn’t know what he’d do if he ever found his friend’s elusive limit.

"We’ll make it our normal. We’ll make it work for us. It’ll be different," Stiles hissed ardently. What he meant was, _I’m not Peter Hale_. 

His heart was skittering in the cage of his ribs, and his mind was racing a mile a minute. He kissed Scott like he didn’t know who he was trying to convince. Stiles’ hands slid over the raw bruises, pressing in just so. He didn’t know if he could get a reaction that way, but he tried. What he saw left him reeling.

"You’re mine, Scott," he promised, and this might have been two steps back from everything they were trying to accomplish. They’d wanted Scott to make his own choices, free of the institutionalized mindset Hale had worked so hard to maintain. Stiles panted into his mouth as he traced the edges of the marks he’d left. "I take care of what’s mine. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. I swear it. If you’re not sure - any reason. You don’t need a reason, if you just don’t know. Tell me. Say ‘no.’ I’ll stop.  _I swear it._ ”

If he said that enough, maybe he could believe it. 

"I liked it," he confessed. His voice cracked. Stiles didn’t fully comprehend what that cost him, but his gut clenched. "I really - I liked it."

He barely pulled away to flick off the stove. All he could think about was how cold it was, without Scott pressed by his side. He pulled Scott to his feet, tucking him back into his arms and supporting his weight. It didn’t matter if Scott couldn’t stand. Stiles had him. 

"And… I think the pizza’s burnt."

___

Scott gave a quiet moan at Stiles’s touch, the sweet ache of his bruises and the taste of his love’s mouth more than his overstimulated nerves could handle. It was too good and he shuddered with pleasure.  Satisfaction buzzed through him, nervous submission replaced with sleek confidence as he preened. Some distant part of his mind thought he should be concerned at the possessiveness or uncomfortable at the thought of being owned, but the worry barely made it through. He wasn’t just some pet or a toy to be used and discarded, he belonged to _Stiles_. No matter how much it hurt or what they did, there was love behind it and his friend would take care of him. It wasn’t just one way, not like Peter. They would take care of each other. Stiles would get his throat and his heart to keep and Scott would use his claws to keep them safe.

“I know you’d stop, just knowing it is enough.” His hands were gentle, smoothing down his human’s hair and tracing lightly down the back of Stiles’s neck. Scott followed the curve of his spine, memorizing every muscle, every hard plane of the human’s body. Best friend, love of his life, master…it all meant the same thing. They’d been dedicated to each other since the moment they met; it couldn’t have been any other way. He was lucky…god, he was so lucky.

Scott studied Stiles’s face, searching carefully in the honey brown, kissing hope back into his love’s mouth. “Then we both like it and that makes it something good because it’s us and it’s ours. I love you, Stiles, nothing we do can be bad because of that. I picked you when we were kids, dude, you’ve been mine ever since. Even if you’re a stubborn asshole who can’t cook.” He laughed, leaning heavily against his friend. “Kind of an intense welcome home tradition, bro.”

___

That sounded more like the Scott he knew, but what they’d done hadn’t changed anything, or it didn’t have to. He’d take care of Scott. This was just something else, something new that they’d learn to enjoy with one another.

It was so easy to sanitize that. It was so easy to forget how he’d wanted to push Scott’s limits and take him apart. Stiles would always build him back up, but he’d stitch himself into Scott’s heart and soul, until Scott couldn’t dream of living without him. He mewled encouragements when he was touched. Scott always knew how to be tender.

"I was distracted," he huffed, winding an arm around Scott’s waist so he could guide him towards their room. "I still think Star Wars would’ve been better."

But he tipped Scott into bed, the one that they’d soon claim as theirs. Stiles kissed him slowly, memorizing the lines of his face with his fingertips, and the taste of his tongue with his own. He watched scratches fade on tanned skin, and breathed easier with proof that he hadn’t broken anything. His confession came in a whisper, so certain in his surrender. “I’m yours.”

No one was going to get in their way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP that has been fic-i-fied! (hence the switch in POV)
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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